Schneewittchen: A New Telling
by PREttYPAIN
Summary: *Modern re-telling of Snow White.* Blanche White lives with her beautiful, vain step-mother who starts to resent the girl's looks. Kept locked away from the dark, industrial city, Blanche must soon escape the only place she's ever known.
1. Prologue

**My first Snow White fic. My first fic about a fairy tale actually. It's inspired by the classic tale and the Disney movie as well. I just wanted to give it a darker edge (not that it doesn't already have it). Ahh! Here it goes…**

**Disclaimer: This tale doth not belongeth to me. :P**

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_Prologue_

_Long, long ago, in the winter-time, when the snowflakes were falling like little white feathers from the sky, a beautiful Queen sat beside her window, __which was framed in black ebony,__ and stitched. As she worked, she looked sometimes at the falling snow, and so it happened that she pricked her finger with her needle, so that three drops of blood fell upon the snow. How pretty the red blood looked upon the dazzling white! The Queen said to herself as she saw it, "Ah me! If only I had a dear little child as white as the snow, as rosy as the blood, and __with hair as black as the ebony window-frame."__ Soon afterwards a little daughter came to her, who was white as snow, rosy as the blood, __and whose hair was as black as ebony__--so she was called __"Little Snow-White."_

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She was small and white, like the little rabbit she held cradled against her chest, murmurirng sweet conforts into it's ear. Her raven hair fell in soft waves against her shoulder, tied back with a loose string. She wore the simplest of clothes; a blue shirt with a black skirt that reached her knees and yellow ballet flats. It wasn't her choice of wardrobe, but she didn't mind. As long as she was free to roam the gardens, she never complained.

"Blanche!"

The girl raised her head to see Mrs. Linn, the housekeeper standing with her hands on her hips. "You're supposed to be inside studying. "

Blanche rose to her feet and brushed the grass from her skirt. "I know. I'm sorry, Mrs. Linn. I'll go now."

Mrs. Linn sighed as the girl said good-bye to the rabbit and let it go back into the gardens. "Don't worry, I'm not angry. You only missed fifteen minutes. It's not a crime, Miss White."

"Still, I shouldn't disobey Mrs. White." Blanche said quietly, walking back with Mrs. Linn to the large house, a Gothic mansion built some centuries back. Mrs. White had added some new touches. A tall, iron gate surrounding the estate. Overgrown trees and bushes. Something to fend off the local paparazzi, she had claimed. Overall, it made the house feel more like an enchanted castle.

"Mrs. White will be out shopping all day today, anyway." Mrs. Linn announced as they made their way through the parlor and into Blanche's private study. "Ms. Smith will be here shortly."

Blanche sat and contented herself to wait for her tutor. It was a great deal more silent with Mrs. Linn gone. The empty room was filled with books and papers, but no life. It was the same as any other day. Finally Ms. Smith entered, unsmiling.

"Let's get to work." She said, settling down into a table. "So, the French Revolution."

Blanche picked up her history book and started reading silently, wondering how long this session would take. It seemed that her lessons were getting longer than usual. She never used to sit all day studying far off places and things she would never see. Before…

She stopped. _Before papa died. _The memory was still fresh in her mind. The doctors, the hospitable. That short but painful conversation with the surgeon. _"I'm sorry, Blanche. There was nothing anyone could do."_ No, there wasn't. She didn't blame the doctors for what happened to her father. They had done all they could. But when you're thirteen and scared, you don't have much sense. She had told the doctor he hadn't tried hard enough, cried until he had to walk away and her new step-mother had to take her back to the car. There were flashes of cameras everywhere as they tried to get in the black SUV. Her step-mother held a hand to Blanche's eyes, shielding her. There were loud voices and "We're sorry for your loss" all around. Blanche didn't know why they were sorry. They didn't know her papa.

"Did you start chapter five, Blanche?"

She looked up, hoping the tears didn't show. "Well, I was almost-"

"Hurry, Blanche. I've no time to waste on a girl who doesn't want to learn."

"Yes, Ms. Smith."

"_Learning is an adventure, Blanche. Think of all those people and events that had once been. Just think. There really was a Cleopatra who walked and talked and got bit by an asp. Thinking of people like they were actual humans and not just names on paper helps." _

Blanche turned the page, the words of her father still imprinted in her mind. She looked at the picture of a lady with big, powdered hair and rosy cheeks. Her head was raised proudly, as if she knew just how pretty she was.

_Like Mrs. White._ Blanche thought, cocking her head to one side and studying the woman more. Marie Antionette, the caption said. Queen of France. _Yes, just like her._ Except of course, Mrs. White was much more beautiful. And she was still alive.

"Okay, Blanche. Time for your quiz on yesterday's assignment. I hope you rememeber about the Treaty of Versialles."

Blanche smiled slightly. "I do remember, Ms. Smith. I studied until I couldn't see any more."

Ms. Smith looked back at her without any emotion. "Is that supposed to be funny, Miss White?"

Blanche flushed, her eyes doe-wide. "No! No, Ms. Smith. I was just…well, I suppose I was trying to be funny…."

"If you please, Miss White." Ms. Smith continued, nonplussed. "I would like to get on with my lesson plan without any more smart-aleck interruptions."

Blanche lowered her eyes. "Yes, Ms."

"_Cheer up, sweetheart". _She heard her father's far off voice comforting her, remembering when her kitty had died. "_It always gets better when you think it can't get any worse."_

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**Well, that's it folks. Next chapter is being completed, but I still have about three other freakin fics to do. I'm so unorganized it actually **_**is funny**_**. Time to get to work. *goes off hunching over computer like Quasimodo* Quasimodo? Hm. I smell another story coming on. Or maybe it's just my muffins burning. *goes off to check* No, nevermind. Enough of my chatter. Criticism and suggestions welcome. :) **

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	2. Wünschend: Wishing

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I.

_Wünschend__; Wishing_

_But alas! When the little one came, the good Queen dies._

_A year passed away, and the King took another wife. She was very beautiful, but so proud and haughty that she could not bear to be surpassed in beauty by anyone._

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There was a small private garden on the estate grounds that was filled with tulips, violets and roses. It was a secluded section of the West Gardens that Blanche had discovered awhile after her father had died. She had gone there often and found that no one else knew of it. Not even the gardeners. It was consequently very dirty and the plants had grown wild. After a few weeks of sneaking away with water pails and seeds, however, and Blanche had transformed the little patch of wilderness into a cozy wood. It was the only place she felt safe.

After her daily chores, which included dusting the parlor, the library and the dining room; scrubbing the windows of at least five rooms; making the beds of all the guest rooms; and finally vacuuming all the halls of the East Wing, Blanche went to her room to wash up. She scrubbed her face hard, hoping it would bring some color into her face. Looking into the mirror at her reflection, she sighed. She had always been pale. It was why she had been named Blanche. The milky white of her skin was a stark contrast to the deep black of her hair. Curious, she reached up to untie the bun in her hair. The waves of ebony cascaded down her back, making her face a glow of white in a swirl of blackness. Perhaps she wasn't as ugly as she felt.

Turning slightly and raising her head in the fashion of her step-mother, she pursed her lips and studied herself. It was no use. Her ratty brown shirt made her look like an ugly duckling trying to pass off as a swan. Her dark brown eyes lowered and she went to change into more comfortable clothes.

Her closet was filled with clothes Mrs. White had given her, from somewhere beyond Blanche's knowledge. They included practical, plain clothes. Black shirts, dark jeans. Occasionally she was given a plain skirt. Blanche settled on her nightgown, a faded blue gown that barely reached her knees. It was nine o'clock anyway and she wouldn't have time to visit her garden, so she settled in bed and tried to sleep. Mrs. White was getting ready for some party in the city that would last until at least five in the morning. Suddenly Blanche opened her eyes and smiled. If she could stay awake until Mrs. White left…

It wasn't in her nature to be so daring. But her garden was calling to her and she was so lonely without her rabbits. She went to the window which overlooked the back gardens of the East Wing, and leaned against the window frame, gazing at the tall trees around her. What lay beyond those trees? Was it truly as awful and dangerous as Mrs. White had warned?

"Perhaps she is right." Blanche wondered. "Perhaps it is better here." But her voice was weak.

There was a knock at the door and Blanche opened it to see Mrs. Linn standing there. "Mrs. White has just left and wished to remind you that tomorrow your chores are cut in half but your studies are doubled."

Blanche nodded. "Yes, she had Ms. Smith tell me today."

"Well, then." Mrs. Linn fidgeted awkwardly, as if she had more to say.

"Was there anything else?" Blanche asked timidly.

"Well," Mrs. Linn hesitated. "It's just that it's a wonderful night."

Blanche looked at the older woman quizzically. Was Mrs. Linn trying to hint at something?

"Yes…"

"Good night, Miss White." Mrs. Linn turned then and left, leaving Blanche standing in the doorway confused.

It only took her a minute to make up her mind. Without another hesitation she grabbed her only other shoes, thick black boots, and a tattered old leather jacket. Black, of course. It seemed she owned a lot of black.

She made her way through the mansion as she always did. Silent, unnoticed. When you live like a ghost, it's amazing the places you could go. When she reached the West Parlor however she glanced out and saw the one place in the whole estate she was forbidden to go. The Main Hall. She peeked through the parlor windows, where the white room beyond was as empty as can be. Her heart raced as she stepped forward, pushed the door forward and stepped into the strange foyer. It was large and oval shaped, filled with marble flooring and a round table in the center. It connected the East and West wings, but what captivated Blanche the most was the Main Entrance. The doors were huge and two even bigger windows stood on either side, exposing the estate's Main Gardens. It was the pathway that visitors used to enter the house.

Blanche could see that no one was about and she thrilled as she reached for the doorknob of the door. It was heavier than she realized, and pulling it open suddenly gave her a guilty feeling. She could see Mrs. White's face. Didn't she care that she was disobeying her step-mother?

But she was already walking through the Gardens, her hands delicately touching every flower. The pathway was huge and Blanche found herself hurrying to hide in the small trees to her left. It made her feel more secure than being out in the open, especially in an area of the house she wasn't and had never been.

There was a small bunny that was chewing on a nut and Blanche smiled wide in delight, for she thought they only showed up in her garden. She went over to the creature slowly, gently murmuring. "There, little one. I'm not going to hurt you."

The bunny did not move. In fact, it was completely unafraid of the girl. When she picked up a nut and held it out, the bunny did not flinch as she scooped it into her arms. It sniffed her and she giggled.

"At least you like me." She said, tickling the bunny's ears. "You do not tell me I am a nuisance of a girl, or that I am hopeless. You do not scold me if I sing around the house."

She laughed. "Or maybe you will if you hear me." She stroked the soft fur. "Shall I sing you a lullaby? One my father wrote for me?"

The bunny looked up at her with wide eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes." Blanche chirped.

It was a song she had kept deep inside after her father had been lost to her. It was one of the few things she had left of him. Just a simple, love song. But singing it always raised her spirits.

""I'm wishing." She sang, her voice sweet and high, a gift from her mother or so her father used to say. Mrs. White hated her voice; she even forbade her to sing.

"I'm wishing, for the one I love." Blanche looked down, smiling as the words healed her broken soul. "For the one I love."

There was a rustle of leaves, but Blanche ignored it, her song filling her heart. "To find me. To find me. Today. Today."

Another rustle of leaves.

"I'm hoping. I'm hoping. And I'm dreaming of." Blanche closed her eyes, letting her heart take over. "The nice things. The nice things…he'll say."

Another rustle, this time closer. The bunny squirmed, but Blanche could only see her father's smiling face.

"I'm wishing. I'm wishing…for the one I love. To find me…to find me…today…"

"Today?"

Blanche jumped up, letting the bunny run from her lap. There standing in the small clearing of trees was a boy.

Blanche stood immediately, brushing her legs off; a knee-jerk reaction, until she drew back in horror upon feeling her bare knees. She remembered her garments, and hugged herself tightly. What had she been thinking?

"I'm sorry." The boy said softly. "I didn't mean to surprise you like that."

Blanche glanced shyly at his face, seeing that he was a bit taller than herself. He looked young, and his bright blue eyes intrigued her. They were so different from her step-mother's blue eyes. Softer.

"Are you alright?" He asked gently, his black hair shining in the dim lights that came from the house. "I didn't scare you too bad, did I?"

Blanche shook her head, trying to find her voice. This strange boy-man; he was not someone she should talk to. Was he?

"No." She half-whispered. "But I shouldn't be here…" She glanced back at the house then at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here on business." He replied. "I was just meeting with some of the label members…" He gave her a quizical look, and Blanche noticed that his lip was peirced. No, he was not someone she should be around.

He came closer. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" Blanhce staggered, trying to decide if she should tell him or not. It wasn't as if he could harm her in her own house. "I live here."

"You live here? I didn't know anyone else but that Mrs. White lady lived here."

"She is my step-mother." Blanche explained, those blue eyes making her more at ease. There was something about this person that didn't frighten her as she should have been.

"I didn't know she had a step-daughter. I knew she was once married, but you are quite a surprise."

Blanche looked away, blushing. His tone was very odd and the way he looked at her made her self-consious.

"I don't go out much." She admitted. "Maybe that's why."

"Why not?"

"I'm not allowed." She paused. "It's dangerous out there."

"In the city?" He questioned, picking up a flower and smelling it. "But how would you know?"

"My step-mother."

He didn't say anything, just looked in her eyes. It was a look that made Blanche uneasy, yet warm at once. He looked away then.

"Maybe the city is dangerous," he said. "But it's dangerous everywhere."

"Not here." Blanche replied, pure adoration in her voice. "It's safe and beautiful here."

"Yes, but when that's all you see, that will be all you know."

"What's wrong with that? It doesn't seem bad to know only safety and beauty."

"But if you don't know true fear, how can you know true bravery. And without the ugly, you'll never experience beauty."

"That is not true. I have seen plenty of beautiful things here."

"And ugly?"

Blanche hesitated. "The dust on the tables. The rotten apples on trees. And when there is a dead spider on the window sill. Those are ugly."

He smiled triumpthently, "So you see, it _can_ be ugly here."

Blanche did not reply. Maybe he was right. There were many ugly things at the estate as there were beautiful. She had never really thought of it.

"Without bad," he continued, holding out the flower to Blanche. "there is no good."

The red rose hung in the air like a dangerous temptation. Blanche could not bring herself to reach out for it, despite how much she desperatly wanted to.

"I don't know you." She whispered.

He took her hand before she could pull back, his skin sending shivers through her body, and shook it gently. "I'm Leon. Leon Emmerich." He waited, still holding her hand.

"Blanche." She said, his eyes pulling her in as she slowly took the rose. "Blanche White."

He let go of her hand then, his face soft. "I'm coming back tomorrow. Maybe I'll see you?"

"I don't think that's possible."

"Why not?"

"Because…I just can't."

"That't not a reason." He laughed slightly. "I'll meet you here, same time."

"No!" Blanche almost screached, imagining what Mrs. White would say. Leon waiting for her where everyone would see… "There is a place," she found herself saying. "A secret garden in the East Wing."

"You want me to meet you there?" He looked doubtful. "I don't think I'd be allowed in."

Blanche frowned. He was right. Unless, Mrs. Linn…

Another voice interrupted her thoughts, making her freeze in alarm. "Miss White?"

It was the gardener, Mr. Scalc. He was a short, frumpy man. But he was quiet and seemingly kind. Blanche looked at him now with startled eyes as he looked over Leon. He was not pleased.

"You are supposed to be in your room." His tone was not angry, but Blanche winced all the same.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Scalc. I was just restless…I'll go right now, I promise."

Leon looked from the other man to Blanche. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be a disturbance. Really, Miss White was doing no harm here. I don't see why she should be in trouble in her own house."

"Yes, well." Mr. Scalc barely looked at the young man. "You don't know a lot about how we do things here, so I would suggest you leave now."

Leon's eyes narrowed, but his tone was still polite. "Of course. I was just on my way out." With one word of good-bye to Blanche he was gone.

"Please go back inside the house, Miss. And don't let Mrs. White ever see you here again."

Blanche nodded as Mr. Scalc walked away and dissappeared into the gardens. She still held the rose, gazing at it as she walked back to the house slowly. Tears began to form in her eyes. She'd never see Leon again. His face and words still burned in her memory and she clutched the rose tightly.

"Blanche." The whisper came from the side pillar of the house, where Leon was hiding behind, an almost comical look on his face. He looked around, purposfully acting like some-sort of secret agent. "Hurry. The hall-monitor might come back again."

Blanche couldn't help but giggle as she ran to him, taking his hand and darting off through the gardens to the one place she was sure no one would find them. After all, it was still about ten o'clock and they had plenty of time.

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"I didn't think you would be a person who paints." Blanche admitted thoughtfully, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat on the soft grass. Leon was beside her, not too close, but close enough. Blanche wondered if he kept his distance on purpose, for the sake of not alarming her. It made her slightly ashamed and embarrsed. He must've thought she was a coward, a little girl who was scared of him because he was from outside her safety zone. And she was even more ashamed because he was right if he thought so. She was a scared, ignorant child and she hated herself for it.

"I don't look like a painter?" He asked teasingly, receiving a curious look from Blanche. "You don't really look like one yourself. But for me, it's because of this, isn't it?" He pointed to his lip ring.

There was an odd tumbling sensation in her belly as she glanced at his lips and the shiny ring glinting in the moonlight. She looked away, hiding her face in her hair. "No. I like it."

"Really?"

Blanche nodded demurely, her face aflame. She was acting so strange. It confused and excited her to speak so boldly with him. But she really did have an odd fascination with his lip ring. It was something she had only seen a few times in Mrs. White's magazines. None of the people from those pages looked half as good as Leon did though.

"What about tattoos?" He asked tentatively.

"I've never seen any in person, before."

He rolled up the long, grey sleeve of his right arm and extended it to her. Blanche gazed in wonder at the elegant vines that wrapped around his wrist and twined up his skin to disappear beneath his shirt. She could see the muscle as he flexed to make the vines dance, like leaves in the water.

Blanche could see there was also words beneath one of the vines. She peered closer. "Beauty without corruption." She whispered. She looked up at him, her face pure and lovely. "What does it mean?"

Staring at her, being so close to her alabaster beauty made him quiet. "I've never seen perfection." He said, looking away. "There is nothing in the world without flaws, and beauty is the best example. It is what everyone wants. A painter wants to creat beautiful art, a gardener wants to make a beautiful garden…" He turned to her then, eyes clouded. "And women want to be beautiful."

Blanche knew about beautiful women all too well. She pictured her step-mother's face and nodded. "I suppose because beauty makes us feel good. It is the one thing that doesn't lie to us."

"But don't you see? It does. It hides all it's imperfections behind itself. Beauty lasts only so long, but it makes us forget that. It decieves us."

The girl who sat close to him listened with foggy eyes, musing over everything he said. There was an ache in his voice, something that pained Blanche as well. Something had hurt Leon, something she couldn't begin to wonder about.

"I think you may be right." She agreed quietly. "Sometimes I think I'm trapped here because I can't bring myself to leave. Because it's too pretty."

"But you can leave whenever you want."

Blanche couldn't tell him how wrong he was; she didn't want to ruin the moment. Instead she smiled and sighed. "I think I should go. It's getting late."

"I guess you're right." He sighed as well, seemingly disappointed. "What about tomorrow?"

"I told you." She laughed. "Mrs. Linn will show you the way. I'll tell her in the morning."

"It's a date then." He winked and stood offering her a hand.

She took it, red. Everytime they touched she felt like a fool. A giddy, happy fool. It was a new, wonderful feeling. "You can manage your way out?" She asked warily. "Don't let Mr. Scalc see you, though I'm sure he's off duty now."

"I'll tell the security my meeting ran late. I'm a good fabricater."

Blanche stopped walking, making her eyes wide and he quickly corrected his words. "I mean, when I have to be. I don't go around lying…"

She couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. "I think I'll become an actress." She giggled. "You really shouldn't think I'm that thick."

Leon grinned. "I don't. But like you said, you really should be an actress."

They reached the point where they would part ways, and Blanche still had the rose in her hands. She looked up at Leon, her heart flying.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He promised, before leaning in so quickly she barely knew he had kissed her cheek before he pulled back and smiled. "Good-bye."

She murmured her own good-bye and he was gone, leaving the spot where he had kissed her tingling.

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Mrs. White sat at her desk, reading her fashion magazine and sneering at the models, mentally noting their every flaw. Some were too thin, others too tan. That one had a large nose, the other a flat chest.

"Mrs. White." The secretary outside buzzed from the telephone. "Docter Oswald is here to see you."

"Send him in." She drawled lazily. Her manicured nails tapped the desk and she put her magazine down and glanced in the small mirror beside her. Her dark-chocolate waves fell luxouriously down her back, her stiking blue eyes stood out against her clear, ivory skin. There was not a single flaw in her face, and when she stood, her body called all attention. She looked herself over once more and stopped short. Her eyes grew wide in horror. Right beneath her hair line, above her brows was a small line. A wrinkle. She gripped her sleek, black pants in a panic.

"Mrs. White?"

The beautiful woman straightened herself. "Yes, Dr.?"

"May I come in?"

Doctor Thomas Oswald was a man of tall stature. He was Mrs. White's personal surgeon, performing anything she desired, on whatever body part she desired. He was rarely used, though. She was perfection at it's best after all. As he entered her office now, Mrs. White smoothed out her facial expression and replaced her frown with a slight smile.

"Hello, Dr." She greeted politally. "Please have a seat."

As Dr. Oswald settled himself in the chair opposite his employer's desk, the telephone buzzed again.

"Mrs. White, Mr. Scalc is here for you."

Mrs. White sighed. "Let him in."

The portly man walked in, perspiration clear on his forhead. He wasn't comfortable with being Mrs. White's employee, especially when his job was to spy on her step-daughter. However, his family needed the money and he wasn't one to complain.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Scalc?" Mrs. White asked icicly. "You usually don't bother me at my office."

"Well," The short man stumbled, "Actually…there was a slight incident last night…"

"Well?" Mrs. White examined her nails. "What happened?"

"Blanche…well, she was out."

Mrs. White froze. "Out?"

"In the gardens. The Main Gardens."

The beautiful woman sat rigidly in her chair. "And how did she come to be there?"

"I don't exactly know, Mrs. White." Mr. Scalc admitted, shamefaced.

"Well, what did you do?"

"I sent her back to her room." He hesitated.

Mrs. White could see the derision in his eyes. She met his panicked gaze with her own icy one. "Is there something else, Mr. Scalc?"

"There was a young man."

"With Blanche?"

"Yes. Leon Emmerich, he said his name was."

Mrs. White's eyes widened. "Leon? He was talking to her?"

Mr. Scalc nodded sheepishly. "Yes, Mrs. White. But only for a minute, I think. I sent him off too."

"_Only for a minute?_" Mrs. White repeated blackly, her eyes dark. "I'm gone a few hours and my step-daughter is running around wild in my house with some musician?"

Mr. Scalc lowered his eyes as she stood imperiously. "Leon Emmerich and his band have just started talks with the label." She explained, her anger rising. "He really does have talent, but his band is holding him back. The don't want to '_sell out_', as they call it." She made a face, something that would have been unattractive on anyone else. On her it was intimidating.

She turned to Mr. Scalc, eyes burning. "Now he thinks he owns the place?" She scoffed. "He thinks he can make Blanche one of his groupies? I'll be damned if that ever happens." She composed herself once more. "Blanche will be under heavier supervision, Mr. Scalc. I will see to her punishment myself."

Mr. Scalc nodded weakly. The girl was not his concern. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

"Now, Dr. what was your news?" Mrs. White smiled. It was not a kind smile.

The doctor did not answer immediately and Mrs. White's smiled faltered. "It is bad news, isn't it? I'd rather you relayed it quickly, Dr."

"The nominations for Hanua Beauty have been announced."

Mrs. White merely laughed, a trilling bell-like laugh. "Is that all? Oh, Thomas dear. You had me worried for a minute. I thought you were going to tell me that you were quiting?" She smirked. "You'd never leave me though, would you Thomas? I'm the perfect patient after all. You've never had to do anything with me, not really. I'm absolutely beautiful after all, isn't that what you said?"

The doctor smiled. "Of course, Mrs. White. You're quite beautiful."

"Quite?" She gave her doctor a look. "I'm not simply beautiful, Thomas. I'm the most beautiful. I've been Ms. Hanau Beauty ever since I married Mr. White and came to Hanau. I'm the most beautiful in the whole city. No other female is ever even nominated for Ms. Hanau Beauty." She blinked slowly, her mouth curved into a small, knowing smile. "_No one at all_, Thomas. Tell me I'm not right. I am the most beautiful in the city, am I not?"

The tall man hesitated, his face still. If ever he was afraid of Mrs. White, he never showed it. Not even now. His voice was calm. "There has been another nomination."

Mrs. White was silent. If the doctor hadn't been her most trusted employee, she would have laughed at such a joke. But now she stood there, shocked.

"Who?"

But even before she asked, she knew. Something deep, down inside her knew. It was only a matter of time, she thought bitterly. And as she glanced at the two men in the room, she knew they were quite aware as she about who the other nomination was.

"How?" Was all she spoke, her voice quiet. Mr. Scalc sat, just as immobile as the others. There was a dense, dangerous aura in the room that made him uncomfortable.

"When she was out in the gardens." Dr. Oswald explained. "Someone saw her. One of the local newspapers somehow got her picture. It's on this mornings paper. 'Hidden beauty of the late and great Harold White' it says. Front page headline."

Mrs. White turned around, not wanting them to see the fire in her eyes. "She isn't old enough. She can't qualify."

"She just turned 16." Mr. Scalc said meekly. He remembered watching her on her birthday; alone in the gardens. It wasn't how a girl should spend her 16th birthday.

"That's the exact entrance age." Mrs. White laughed darkly. "It seems I have a rival. My own step-daughter, too. She really is lovely, isn't she?"

"I cannot lie." Dr. Oswald replied evenly. "She is. But you will not give up your crown easily, will you?"

Mrs. White, looking out the window, turned around to face them. Her blue eyes sparkled. "No, I won't. But I'm not a poor sport, either. In fact, I think I know a way to make this year's competition even more exciting."

* * *

**See ya next time. :) **


	3. Das Verlassen: Leaving

_III._

_Das Verlassen; Leaving_

_So one day when the Queen went to her mirror and said:_

_"Looking glass upon the wall, _

_Who is fairest of us all?"_

_It answered:_

_"Queen, you are full fair, 'tis true,_

_But Snow-White fairer is than you."_

_This gave the Queen a great shock, and she became yellow and green with envy, and from that hour her heart turned against Snow-White and she hated her. And envy and pride like ill weeds grew higher in her heart every day until she had no peace day or night._

_At last she sent for a huntsman and said, "Take the child out into the woods, so that I may set eyes on her no more. You must put her to death and bring me her heart for a token."_

* * *

It was a cool, sunny day as Blanche watered the roses in the gardens. She lifted the hood from her neck to cover the sun's rays from pouring on her black tresses. For such a cool day, it was very sunny. Blanche was in good spirits though, humming as she lowered the large, silver pitcher into the bushes. The water was cool as it splashed against her bare legs and she giggled with remembered embarresment at her meeting with a particular young man. How red she had been then, because of her bare legs. She could only smile now.

Mr. Scalc was busy a few feet from her, trimming the bushes with much energy. Blanche glanced at him and grinned even wider. Perhaps today was a good day for everyone.

"Mr. Scalc?"

The man paused his work in surprise. "Yes, Miss White?"

"You look a bit tired." Blanche began timidly. "I could take up the trimming for a bit. Just until you catch your breath."

The man seemed to stare at her for a while, his eyes locked to hers. Blanche thought she saw him flinch, but then he was back to his work and she ignored her musings.

"It's fine, Miss White. I am almost finished anyway."

Blanche hesitated for a moment, and began to return to her watering. She hummed a little tune, her own sweet love song.

_I'm wishing…for the one I love…to find me…_

Glancing over at Mr. Scalc, she felt her heart stiffen as she noticed his reaction. He clearly did not like her humming; for he was frowning deeply, a pained look on his face. She stopped mid-song and went back to her flowers, a small tear forming in the corner of her eye. Hadn't Ms. White told her many times what a horrible, whiny voice she had? Until now, she had never truly believed her. But upon seeing Mr. Scalc's stiff posture; that little hope died.

She was interrupted in her thoughts when a small white bunny leapt through the bushes, surprising Blanche.

"Oh!" She gasped, as the creature looked up at her with alarm. Behind her Blanche could hear Mr. Scalc stop his work.

"It's alright Mr. Scalc." She murmured. "It's only a little rabbit."

She bent down slowly as the infant rabbit approached, sniffing her. "He's just a baby." Blanche cooed as the bunny was swept into her arms lovingly. "He probably lost his parents…"

The sun had grown brighter as Blanche cradled the small fluff-ball. She thought of the bunny all alone in the world without his proper parents, just as she was alone.

"It's all right, little one." She giggled as the bunny tickled her with his nose. "You're safe now."

Suddenly, there was a great shadow over Blanche and her bunny, a shadow that towered over her and cast a terrible silhouette against the bushes. Blanche jumped in alarm and whirled around, only to find herself face to face with Mr. Scalc.

"Mr. Scalc…" Blanche barely managed, all at once terrified of the man she had known for most of her life.

His face had lost it's color and in his eyes was a glint that she had never before seen. He was sweating profusely, his lips curled widely about his bared teeth. Both his hands clenched at his sides, even as he began to lift his right arm, a shiny object grasped tightly between his fingers.

Blanche was frozen, ready to scream as he suddenly fell to the ground on his knees and gripped her short skirt tightly.

"Please forgive me!" He cried, letting go of the object in his hand. It fell to the grass, a useless lighter that glinted in the sun. "I cannot do it, Miss! I cannot!"

Blanche was too stunned to speak, her legs trembled as the man looked up at her with shamed-filled eyes.

"Forgive me, Miss White. You do not deserve such a fate!"

"Wha-what fate?" Blanche choked, still hugging the bunny tight. "Stop it, please!"

"Ms. White!" He cried, terror in his eyes. He gripped her more tightly than ever. "She bade me do it, I tell you. I should be whipped for such crimes I have committed against you…and even those I was about to…"

Those words had Blanche struggling to break free, her heart torn between wanting to know just what Mr. Scalc was speaking of and running to hide in her room.

"I don't understand." She whimpered. "Please, let me go!"

"She wanted you to burn!" Mr. Scalc continued, holding up the lighter. "For me to throw this weapon in the bushes and burn it all, with you caught in the fray…to scar your lovely little face…and secure her own vanity…"

The man was weeping now, so tormented that Blanche had to reach out and offer a gentle touch. He flinched away however, the tears flowing down his cheeks.

"I do not deserve it, Miss. Not for what I was about to do." He shook his head. "No, you must leave this prison. Now!"

"I cannot," Blanche protested shakily, her whole body about to break. "I cannot."

"You must! Else, your step-mother will harm you more than I was about to."

The sun was blocked away by the clouds now, and Blanche felt the bunny snuggle to her chest. Mr. Scalc whipped around like a mad-man, alert to any noise. He grabbed Blanche's hand then, and pulled her through the gardens.

"Get your things and leave." He ordered. "You must before it's too late. I will leave the back gate open. No one shall know.."

He pushed her inside the house, his eyes wild. "Hurry!"

As Blanche ran to her room, her mind raced with all that was said. _Ms. White…was everything true, then? Could all the horrible things he had said be true? _

She could not doubt the look in Mr. Scalc's eyes, and so Blanche grabbed the only bag she owned, a plain brown leather one, and stuffed her only worthy possessions; her father's songbooks, her mother's dress, and her own books. Then she poured her toiletries and only clothes inside. Finally she switched from her flat black shoes, to her thick boots and took off through the halls, swiftly and shakily. She was certain the bunny could feel her heart hammering against her chest. _Goodbye, father_, she thought as she swept out the back door. _This was my only home._

The gate was open, as Mr. Scalc had promised but as she stood before it, breathing heavily, she could not take that final step. She glanced back at the gardens behind her, the huge mansion that had always trapped and protected her. It was finally all over…

With her bag slung over her shoulder, she turned the handle and opened the gate, stepping into the unknown world before her.

It was into a small alleyway she had stepped, and she closed the gate behind her, the sudden click making her jump. She looked down both sides of the alleyway, her eyes wide with both fear and curiosity. _At least I have my bunny with me_, she thought hugging the little fellow. With a deep breath she quickly made her way down the alleyway.

It was getting darker, the pavement under her feet dirtier. There was an exit up ahead and she practically ran into the dim light. She was unprepared for the the sight before her. Beyond the thick brush she stood in, lay a city below her, large and grey. The tall buildings stood against the sunset, their sharp tops like knives. The lights were lit up brightly and Blanche breathed in wonder.

"That's where Ms. White goes…"

The bunny squirmed in her arms and Blanche remembered herself. She looked around her, realizing it was the first time she knew what the outside of the mansion really looked like. She had been to the city once, when her father died. But she did not remember it, as she was in a black car the whole time, the windows tinted black. Now she saw that the mansion was surrounded by thick forest, with only a small road that lay far to Blanche's left. It was barely visible from where she stood, and it winded up the hill dangerously.

Just then there was a crunch of leaves in the silent wood, and Blanche began to run toward the city, careful as the hill was steep. The unknown noises were becoming louder, as if a whole pack of wolves was on the hunt.

_And I'm their prey…_

Almost tripping on a vine, Blanche desperately tried to steady her breathing, but the cold air filled her lungs so that she thought she would die. She ran until she thought she would collapse, visions of sharp fangs and blood-red eyes sourounding her in the dusk. She ran and ran, suddenly feeling like trees just kept appearing, until there was a light and the darkness began to vanish. Soon, she collapsed on her knees as she reached the end of the woods, the edge of the city in view. Behind her the noises stopped and she wept with relief and weariness, clutching the bunny tightly.

_How cowardly am I?_ She thought. _I am such a naïve fool._

But the tears, of both self-pity and shame, slid silently down her pale cheeks. She held the bunny tight and dropped to the cold dirt beneath her, praying for some kind of deliverance.

* * *

**That was short, but hopefully I'll update soon. Thank you to Zoe-the-Lost & Lady Macbeth2 for reviewing. Big xoxo's to you! ^-^**


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